


fucking australians.

by Keksimus1234



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Conflict, Enraged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:22:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keksimus1234/pseuds/Keksimus1234
Summary: Prompt was: Conflict, Enragedmight put up a second part if I can be bothered to finish it.





	fucking australians.

“LATTE FOR BRUCE”

I shift up, adding just a lil bit of juice to prevent breaking the chair. Negotiate my way past the tables, avoid the cunt with his fake coffee. Wonder if I can get him to fuck off if I flash my badge? Probably. Thank fuck they haven’t issued newer models.

Counter girl hands over the glorious beverage, she’s real nice like that. Might give her a nice tip. Might even let her keep the change. Maybe next time.  
Pivot around, need to leave. Felt the pager buzz, it can’t be good… hold on...  
9 o’clock. forget counter girl, this is an intense looking sheila. Bit of a willowy build, shaved sides don’t really do it for me. At least she’s not too small, seen much worse around. Fuck it, let’s go. Double-time through the fucking tables. That little fucKING TWAT AGAIN... gotta remember that face, might harass him on patrol. If I see him.

   
Back to the girl. Cmon brain, good lines post-haste. Smile is active. Mission is a go.

“May I sit?”

...That was not as good a line as hoped.  
 

The sheila looks up, flashing those eyes. Jesus, so vividly green. She gives a nod more regal than any fucking queen. I pull out a seat, try and make some space. Immediately, I’m seeing a problem here; the table’s piled with newspapers. Newspapers of me? Hope I haven’t pursued anyone she knows. She the chief's daughter? Just give her the roguish grin, absolutely nothing wrong here.  
“You a Gavel fan, ay?”  
Alas, met with nothing but a curt “no” and an aggressively disinterested face.  
Come on lady, you're so interested in a picture, but you can't spare the real deal 5 seconds? Still, I can work with this. I heard an _accent_ . Means it's not someone I’d know, not someone with a _grudge_.

Score.

I lean forward,  
“You sound like a yank, you new in town? I could show around, tell you the real deal with Gavel. More than just the slandering shit the newspapers are slinging”  
Finally, this gets her attention. She faces me, looking real stoic.  
"Gavel’s nothing more than a wild dog, one that _will_ get put down. At least the villains are honest with themselves."  
I can feel my smile stretching out just a too wide. Need to get her to clarify, or correct her. One of us is a hero here, and it’s definitely not her.

“He’s just lookin to help people, y’know?”  
She looks back to her newspapers a sigh. Picks up an older one. A reminder, a failure.  
“35 hostages dead, because he was more concerned with his vengeance. His target”  
Just grit your teeth and deal with it. She’s a civilian, not even from around here. Isn’t aware of the nuance. Sh-  
“ _I’ll_ be doing all I can to help take him down.”  
\- e’s an acceptable target.

Pager buzzes again. An exit. Give her a farewell and grab the coffee. Time to get out before I break something, or someone, in public.  
“Well, lovely chattin with you”  
Make my way towards the exit. The nearest cache isn’t far, walking distance. No hammer, if I recall. Hammer’s too quick though. Crowbar will do. It’s getting dark out.

_Perfect_

Just a quick walk there. A duffel bag in an unused dumpster. Sun's gone down, she’s come out of the coffee shop. It’s time to hunt. Stick to the shadows. Keep some distance. I want to strike, need to strike.  
But I don’t.  
Wait for an opportunity, less prying eyes. Less obstructions. She’s walked into an alleyway, this is a good an opportunity as any. Stalk forward. Streets looking empty

_I see her_

In this moment, there is nothing but me and the target. I let loose an unfettered howl, pouring everything I am into it. At this moment, I am nothing but hate. Nothing but rage.  
I will be absolved. In this life, or the next.

 

I swing.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: Conflict, Enraged  
> might put up a second part if I can be bothered to finish it.


End file.
